Worth at Least a Hill of Beans.

 It’s probably not the most effective use of my time.  After reading an article yesterday about bioengineered crops, I could help but throw in my thoughts about gardening.  Last year I finally started a garden in my backyard.  I had done some concrete work and had a lot of topsoil needing a good home.  The result was a raised bed about 16′x30′ in size.  Samantha and I planted about fourteen short rows of green beans and some cucumbers in early August, as well as some potatoes that never broke the surface.  The beans were a bumper crop, filling a five gallon bucket each of about four pickings.  It is hard to beat fresh beans for dinner; and we had them enough to share with my folks. 

Samantha had never planted anything but flowers, and I relished the opportunity to teach her about planting and tending the crop.  My father had given me part of the backyard garden to work myself when I was about ten, and I want to do the same for my daughter.  She listens to me better when we are working than at any other time.  She planted about a third of the seeds, helped me weed the garden, and picked beans at my side whenever it was time.  She took pride in telling our friends and family about “our garden”.  Today she helped me turn the soil so that it could aerate and accept moisture better before planting time. 

I won’t save any money gardening.  I already spent more on the railroad ties and rabbit fence than I could save in a lifetime of eating home grown beans (though with the price of tomatoes, I’ll fare better).  I have too many commitments already-and a garden certainly is a commitment if it is done right.  It’s a waste of water, an unnecessary expense, and a needless physical burden.  But, Lord willing, I will garden until I am too old to eat. 

I like to fry fresh picked okra, eat tomatoes right off the vine, and enjoy a pot of beans and new potatoes after smelling them for hours.  I love watering the garden in the morning, eagerly anticipating the “first fruits”, and running the occasional rabbit off the premises.  And I really enjoy it when Samantha helps. 

Today in Human Geography, we read an article about the demise of the small farmer.  I am very concerned about the economic and social consequences of this as an American, but I am also interested as a Christian.  When Samantha learns about the Parable of the Sower, or any of the countless agricultural images in the Bible, what will they mean to her?  When I say “it is God that gives the increase“, will she relate when her work seems fruitless?  And, besides all that, will she be afraid to get her hands dirty in the Kingdom, having been separated from the soil her whole life?  Not if I can help it. 

So, we garden.  I want it to be a part of who she is.  We aren’t farmers, we aren’t even green thumbs.  But we can sow, water, tend, and reap.  And that’s great practice for life. 

Agape-or at least the best I can do,

Chris

“Look out!”

She came home from school, indignant.  How a five year old could be indignant is a bit amazing to me, but there was no misreading her emotion.  “What happened?”, she was asked. 

“I got sent to the office.”

“Why?”

“I got out of line and hugged a friend across the hall, and they sent me to the office.  Now wasn’t that silly?”

(Insert obvious indignation here)

“Samantha, you’ve been getting into trouble a lot lately.  When you are doing something wrong, don’t you ever hear that little voice inside telling you to stop?”

(Interested)

“You mean my conscience?  I don’t think mine works.”

I sure hope it gets fixed before she becomes a teenager.

In all seriousness, I think we may underestimate the value of our conscience as it works in conjunction with faith.  We all heard when we were kids about how our conscience can be broken through repeated sin; but is that something that we think about as adults?  Paul exhorts Timothy in I Timothy 1:19 to hold on to faith and conscience, and then laments the fate of those who rejected both, saying their faith had been “shipwrecked”. 

What an interesting choice of words for Paul, who by the end of his ministry would be an expert on shipwrecks.   Our consciences are a sort of lighthouse, sending out a warning-illuminating the destructive rocks of sin ahead.  Unfortunately, the older we get, the more confident we get in our “night vision” and “personal navigational skills”.  To be sure, Paul talked about weak consciences that took away a believer’s freedom; but I don’t think that applies to most of the decisions we make on a daily basis.  A good conscience is a valuable asset to Christians, and needs to be maintained. 

I’m not sure Samantha’s problem with her conscience was any different than mine.  I want to look at issues from my own perspective, not someone else’s-or God’s.  A good conscience starts with understanding of God’s standards, and submission to His will. 

I’m happy to say that at seven, Samantha seems to be developing a healthy conscience.  How’s yours?

Agape-or at least the best I can do,

Chris

Thursday Nights

Thursday nights have been really uplifting for me this school year.  We have looked at a variety of topics, and after missing a week for Valentines Day, I want to look this week at one great question in particular:  “Why Jesus?”.  I thought as a preliminary activity, I would open this up for some comments.  So, anyone, why Jesus? 

I am NOT getting sick!!

Seems like everyone around me is getting sick.  I refuse.  I am a jogger now, and joggers have great immune systems.  And, I have been drinking one can of vegetable juice (THE NASTY!) a day for two weeks. The pain, runny nose, and stuffed sinuses are simply in my head.  They aren’t real–at least until they move to my chest.  So I’m loading up on vitamin C, drinking a fruit smoothie, and going to work out tonight.  I am NOT getting sick!

Defiant,

Chris

“I’m Open!”

 She runs down the court, stands in one place, and though she is surrounded by the opposing team, she yells, “I’m open, I’m open!” at the top of her lungs.  Then she looks so frustrated when the ball is not thrown to her.   I can hardly stand to watch when she does this over and over-despite my continual pleas for her to move around, watch for the loose ball, and focus on rebounding and defense.  She’s only seven, and this is her first league.  Still, I can’t help but get annoyed when she focused solely on getting the ball from her own team mate, and then blindly throwing the ball toward either the basket or another player (I sometimes can’t tell which).

What God must think when he looks at us!  We often want so badly to be used by Him in some grand plan in which we are the central figure. “I’m open, I’m open!” we yell, oblivious to the sin all around us.  God must be frustrated, as we stand in one place, perhaps secretly jealous of “the one with the ball”.  I can imagine Him saying, “Look for the opportunities! Watch for the less glorious roles! Be alert!”

We have a role in God’s kingdom, and God expects us to fulfill it.  We start by seeking His glory, not our own.

Agape-or at least the best I can do,

Chris

“Am I Dead, Yet?”

  Eight days into jogging.  I’ve completed 4.5 miles each of running and walking.  I’m so proud I could break my arm patting myself on the back.  I must be careful, for “pride goeth before shin splints.” I have a secret that I will be presumptuous enough to share, in case you are wondering how I get my fat carcass down the road.  Each time I am ready to stop, I have a short conversation with myself:

“I’m going to die if I don’t stop.”

“No, you won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“You though you were going to die (insert time frame of between ten seconds and five minutes”) ago, and you are not dead right now.”

I think the apostle Paul must have really liked exercise.  There are so many spiritual applications.  So, in my endorphin induced haze I have one I’d like to share.

Often in our spiritual walks we find ourselves struggling to overcome sin.  God has promised us victory over sin in our lives, but he does not eliminate the temptation.  Sometimes it is alcoholism; sometimes it is pornography or some other addiction.  Almost always, it involves a conversation in our minds in which we really are questioning whether or not God is, in fact, all we need. 

“I could give in this time, and no one will know.”

“God will, and you will, and that’s enough.”

“God promised a way out.  Where is it?”

“Stop. Look. Listen. Call somebody.  Let God work through His people.”

“No, not right now.  Maybe next time.”

I don’t like thinking about failure; but God always provides for it in his plan.  His discipline transforms us-if we submit to it-into the likeness of Christ.  Whatever our struggle with sin, hopefully we can look for the discipline of God in the process.  Then we can replace the desires we have for evil with the desire to fill our lives with good works, for which we have been saved. 

Hebrews 12:2-6

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

 In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. And you have forgotten that word of encouragement that addresses you as sons:
   ”My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline,
      and do not lose heart when he rebukes you,
    because the Lord disciplines those he loves,
      and he punishes everyone he accepts as a son

Agape-or at least the best I can do,

Chris

As Iron Sharpens Jello.

I embarked on a new journey today.  I’m getting back into running.  My body will just have to submit.  This time is different, though.  I have a running partner.  And I think he will really help me focus on many things that are important in life.  He says I’m his mentor.  Socrates was a mentor, and so was Jesus.  They were killed by hemlock and crucifixion.  Take up my cross?  It may be a pair of running shoes.  Death by slow, painful deterioration.  Dead Man Walking, meet Fat Boy Runnin’.

Agape–or at least the best I can do.